Hello, all! Spring is truly upon us, so I hope you're enjoying the season and taking your allergy medicines. Today, I had a friend request a topic for me to write about. Usually, I don't like doing what others tell me (that originated in an obstinate childhood, I'm sure), but I rather liked the topic he suggested. Something about the question sparked this immediate need for my fingers to touch the keyboard and start writing. My style of writing is almost compulsive, at times. I'll be doing something, and a thought will hide in the fringes of my brain, slowly coming into focus. As I allow myself to think about it more, I can literally almost feel an aching yearning in my fingers to write it out. Sometimes, I indulge this need immediately, and sometimes, I make myself practice waiting. It sounds a bit ascetic, but I challenge myself to hold these wavering thoughts in my mind, savoring them until they're ripe for writing.
Today's topic: what inspires my musings. The short answer is that just about everything life's made of inspires me. Now, we all know that I'm not exactly a "short, get to the point" kind of writer; perhaps that shortness is something I reserve for my physical height :) Knowing that, you can deduce that I'm probably going to give a longer answer than you asked for, and that, my friends, is correct.
Giving some more thought to the issue, I think at the core, it's questions that inspire me to give in to my musings. Ever since I can remember, I've always had an active imagination, although the realistic part of my self usually keeps me from unveiling that to most people. In my head, there's an endless scroll of questions. These questions are always sparked by everyday things. Life is ordinary, no matter how hard we try to make it extraordinary.
Often, these questions draw from my unabashed love affair with nature. I see a bird, and I wonder what it would be like to fly and feel the wind between the feathers on my wings. I wonder what trees would say if they could talk and what it feels like when raindrops hit their leaves. I wonder what it would be like to spend an entire day laying in the grass and listening to the sway of the weeds. I wonder how fast sunshine streams through the clouds. I wonder what it feels like to be a ripple in the water.
As much as I love nature, I adore people. Simply and truly, and not always. People fascinate me. People don't make sense, and yet, they can be so predictable. And when we can't predict each other's movements, there's such beauty in that chaos. I find myself wondering about the history of just about everyone I meet. How did they get to look like they do today, and what darkness have they experienced? What makes people react so differently to similar circumstances? What do people dream for themselves? How do people know they are loved? These questions are endless, and I'll spend the rest of my life wondering them.
Photographs are my latest source of inspiration, I believe. I love photos because they often lack context. What we see is only what the photographer captures through the lens. We're given a frame to look through, and the rest, we decide for ourselves. What else is out there?
I rejoice in questions. My thoughts are constantly racing, and that feels peaceful to me. Questions make me feel alive. I've long since given up in trying to answer all the questions. As Earl Grey Stevens said, "Confidence, like art, never comes from having all the answers; it comes from being open to all the questions."
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